


Beryl

by wheel_pen



Series: Loose Gems [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, M/M, Slavery, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3865093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ruler of a country does the forbidden and falls in love with the woman who’s just supposed to be his temporary mistress. A few scenes.</p><p>Chapter 2, just a brief scene, is new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things.  
> Inherent in slavery and other forms of subjugation are dubious consent, unhealthy relationships, and violence.  
> I hope you enjoy this original work, which was inspired by many different stories.

_Characters_ :

Leopold, media director for the country of Onnalicht, which distracts its citizens from massive income inequality with reality shows about the King’s circle of mistresses, known as the doves; the King’s illegitimate half-brother, his mother being one of the late King’s doves. Vincent Perez

Emil, the young, dashing King of Onnalicht. Stuart Townsend

Beryl, one of the doves, a Canadian whose main flaw is being rather too shy for the media glare. Charlize Theron

Aurick, Leopold’s assistant and lover. Lee Williams

 

Onnalicht was a country that loved sunlight, but one of its most powerful citizens preferred to furnish his office in heavy fabrics and dark wood, without so much as a window to let in a natural glow. The whole effect was discomforting and intimidating, and Emil suspected that was its purpose. Goodness knew, Leopold’s job required he do a _lot_ of intimidating; however, the King was not used to being on the receiving end of such strong tactics.

“Your Majesty, how good of you to see me on such short notice,” Leopold began formally, slipping in through the side door.

Emil dropped casually into a chair before his councilor’s desk, draping one leg over the arm. “Oh, don’t bother with all that, Leo,” Emil insisted, nodding his permission for the other man to be seated. “I’m to meet the studio heads in half an hour, and you know my media director will throw a fit if I’m late.”

His media director smiled at that, but only thinly, and Emil began to wonder what was so serious. “Then I will get right to the point, Your Majesty,” Leopold replied. He took a breath, as if pausing to remember the words he’d carefully chosen, then continued, “I was hoping you could give me a more complete account of Your Majesty’s recent sexual history.”

Emil literally thought he’d heard the man incorrectly, then burst out laughing as he processed the request. “My _what_?!” he asked, chuckling.

Leopold, however, appeared dead serious. “Just the last four months or so, Your Majesty,” he elaborated.

“Leo, you must be joking!” Leopold was not, so Emil tried a different tactic. “You honestly expect me to remember _every_ sexual encounter I’ve had in the last four months?” he smirked. “I couldn’t even begin to—“

Leopold had taken a stack of papers out of his desk drawer and pushed them across to Emil. “What’s this?” the King queried, glancing at the list of names and dates idly.

The answer hit him before Leopold began to answer and he immediately straightened in his chair, grabbing the documents to inspect more closely. “Every sexual encounter you’ve had in the last four months,” the media director pointed out coolly, “that I know about.”

Theoretically, Emil had realized lists like this must exist—the media kept them certainly, and possibly the doves themselves, who wanted to make sure he spent equal amounts of time with each of them. But to _see_ such a list, neatly typed, with the letterhead of his own media director—it was almost enough to make Emil angry. And Emil never got angry. He knew he was at least upset when he had no idea what to say in response. Instead he shoved the papers back at Leopold and glared at him, chin in hand.

Leopold didn’t flinch, just calmly straightened the documents and slid them back, along with the pen. “If Your Majesty could just fill in the ones that aren’t listed…”

“Why?” Emil spat with irritation. “Why should I have _every_ detail of my private life recorded in _your_ little files?”

Leopold began to get testy, the way he always did whenever someone failed to see the necessity of complying with him. “Because you are the King,” he replied, his tone creeping towards the disrespectful, “and we like to keep a close eye on you.”

Emil started to stand. “I’m leaving. I have work to do. _You_ scheduled it.”

“Your Majesty.” Leopold sounded a bit softer now, so Emil sat back down. “It is very important, at this particular time, that these particular records be complete.” Emil let his confusion show, and again Leopold chose his words with care. “I have spoken to Dr. Schneider about when Beryl would have conceived, and she is not listed in these records anytime near that date.”

Emil stared at him for a moment, divining his meaning. “Just what are you suggesting, Leo?” Emil asked coldly.

“I am suggesting, Your Majesty, that these records are incomplete.”

“Fine.” Emil grabbed the papers and pen and tried to cast his mind back in time. “What was the date?” He looked up when Leopold didn’t answer. “The date Dr. Schneider gave you?”

“I would prefer if Your Majesty would complete the records from your own recollection,” Leopold told him, expression unreadable.

“Fine,” Emil repeated, just as coldly. He stared at the innocent-looking list, which contained little hint of its true nature—the dates, women’s names, and locations (“Hotel Imperial, Vienna”) could be referring to almost any kind of appointment or meeting. “Why don’t you just have a paternity test done, if you’re so suspicious?” he muttered.

“Oh, we will,” Leopold assured him. “But the child must be born first for that.”

Emil sighed and started scribbling on the papers. Really, what Leopold had wasn’t so much a list of sexual encounters as a collection of “private times” he had spent with the doves, during which he may or may not have had sex with them. Well, Emil reflected, at least that meant his media director didn’t have a hidden camera spying on him. Supposedly.

“Date, location, time of day, if you can remember,” Leopold reminded him.

“You want the positions, too?” Emil asked nastily.

Leopold waved him off. “Don’t be crude.”

Emil had a vague notion that Leopold shouldn’t be quite so informal with him, but then, Leopold was always like that when he got mad at someone. For a few moments there was no sound in the oppressively dark office except for Emil annotating the list. Then Leopold began to get impatient, his eyes widening as Emil didn’t seem to be slowing down. Every time the King flipped to a new page and started in again, Leopold restrained a new sound of exasperation.

“Well, you want a _complete_ record, don’t you?” Emil finally snapped. “There.” He tossed the papers back across the desk in disgust and stared off into the distance irritatedly as Leopold perused them.

Suddenly the older man slapped the papers down angrily. “You’ve made these up!”

“Now you’re accusing me of _lying_?!” Emil exclaimed indignantly. “You know, Leo, I think that’s treasonous!”

“You left for Milan at eight in the morning on the twenty-third,” Leopold pointed out by way of example, “and Katerina was in your room the night before.”

“So?”

“So, you don’t even know your own _name_ before ten AM,” he continued acidly. “You expect me to believe you got up at _five_ and met Beryl in the Spring Hunting Lodge, without anybody noticing?”

“Well, I knew nobody would bother me before seven-thirty, didn’t I?” Emil shot back. “And Katerina sleeps like the dead anyway.”

Leopold wasn’t done arguing. “The Sterling Ball? There’s no possible way you managed to slip away with her then, not with everyone watching you.”

“Oh, honestly, Leo.” Emil rolled his eyes. “ _You’re_ the one who flipped out when you couldn’t find me for twenty minutes. I thought _that_ one was obvious.”

Leopold stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then continued reading the scribbles. “’Broom closet, northeast tower, third floor’… ‘Hidden passage, from bedroom closet’… ‘Vintage wine cellar’…” Finally he glanced up, utterly mystified. “Emil, why the h—l are you sneaking around to meet this girl, when you can have her whenever you want?”

“It’s ‘Your Majesty,’” Emil corrected icily, staring the older man down. “And maybe I’d rather keep _some_ things from being watched and recorded.”

Leopold refused to be chastised. “Write them _all_ down,” he ordered furiously, shoving the papers back towards the King. “All your sneaky little meetings with all of the girls, all the kitchen maids, the ambassador’s daughters, everyone else I don’t know about.”

For the first time in his career, Leopold looked across the desk and saw rage burning in the eyes of his normally fair-tempered ruler. But frankly he didn’t care. Scandals didn’t happen because people were foolish or careless; people had always been foolish and careless, but they _didn’t_ always have scandals. No, scandals—with the undignified jokes, the emotional trauma, the damaged credibility—happened because people didn’t trust someone like _him_ to alleviate the effects of their foolishness and carelessness. And outright _lying_ to him? Concealing things from him? How did people expect him to do his job, in that kind of environment?

After a moment Leopold noticed that Emil wasn’t writing anything new. He had picked up the papers again, his temper apparently cooled somewhat, but he stared _through_ the documents instead of _at_ them. “Your Majesty?” Leopold prompted, more gently.

Emil carefully set the documents back on the desk, unaltered. He actively refused to meet Leopold’s gaze and seemed as uncomfortable as the older man had ever seen him. And then in an instant, Leopold understood, and he felt foolish himself for not having seen it earlier.

“You didn’t sneak around to see anyone else, did you?” The King’s silence was answer enough. “You didn’t want anyone to know how much time you were spending with her. Did you get her pregnant on purpose?”

“One gets careless sometimes,” Emil muttered.

“Your Majesty, are you in love with this girl?”

“Emil, you know who you’re going to marry,” Leopold pointed out softly. “Someone of royal blood. Not a… shopgirl from Canada.”

The King stood abruptly, and Leopold did too, out of habit. “I have to go,” he said brusquely, heading for the door.

“Emil—“

“It’s ‘Your Majesty’ to you,” the King repeated fiercely, before leaving to attend his duties.

 

**

_After being forcibly separated during most of her pregnancy while Emil half-heartedly entertains the idea of an approved royal wife, Beryl sneaks back to see him, interrupting a grand ball. Naturally she goes into labor and at the last moment, Leopold decides to assist them—not only with medical help, but also by letting them marry, so their child will be a legitimate heir to the throne._

 

Leopold was in his office, wood panels folded back to let in the morning sunlight, trying to keep up with the massive pile of paperwork that was only getting larger as news of the entire event at the ball leaked out to the rest of the world. He had discovered that writing his replies in longhand, though it took more time overall, was much less painful than trying to type with the two broken fingers on his left hand. Besides, it meant Aurick had finally been forced to learn to type himself, the spoiled little creature.

There was a knock on the office door. “Come in,” Leopold called without looking up. When he caught sight of his visitor, however, he jumped to his feet immediately.

Emil waved him back and dropped casually into the chair before his desk. “I hope you don’t mind me wandering by like this,” he commented, momentarily distracted by the sunlight behind him. He hadn’t thought this room _had_ any windows.

“Not at all, Your Majesty,” Leopold assured him. “And how is _Her_ Majesty doing today?”

“Very well, thank you,” Emil replied with a smile. “She said to ask about your hand. She feels terribly about it.”

Leopold tried to surreptitiously slide his bandaged fingers out of view. “Hardly worth mentioning,” he insisted, then switched topics. “And how is the young Prince today?”

Emil’s smile grew. “Even more beautiful than yesterday,” he claimed, “and louder too, I think.”

Leopold began to shuffle through some of the papers on his desk. “The naming ceremony is scheduled for next week,” he reminded Emil distractedly, “if Her Majesty feels up to it, of course.” He drew out a scrap of paper. “The Council and I have come up with a few suggestions for names—“

“Beryl and I have already decided what we’re going to name him,” Emil announced firmly.

Leopold looked up in some alarm. “Well,” he began hedgingly, “certainly Your Majesty’s input is most welcome—“

Emil ignored him, smiling. “Leopold Vinzenz Benedikte Ottokar, future King of Onnalicht.”

Leopold did a double take as he processed the information and opened his mouth to object, but Emil held up a hand to stop him. “Now, Vincent was the name of Beryl’s father, so we wanted to work that in, and of course Benedikte for the late King,” he explained easily. “And Ottokar just because half my relatives have it and it sounds cool.”

“Your Majesty,” Leopold finally got in, “there is _no precedent for_ —“

“Oh, yes there is,” Emil corrected him. “Thirteenth century, King Leopold the Jolly. Not a bad source, eh?”

The older man looked at him suspiciously. “Leopold the Jolly? Who told you _that_?”

“Aurick.” Leopold rolled his eyes and started to launch a new protest. “She insisted,” Emil continued, and the media director stilled. “Aurick told her about the searches you’d had him doing, and the messages you sent.”

“Some confidential assistant,” Leopold griped, not meeting the King’s gaze.

“And Beryl says you can’t have the wedding for a couple of months, because she wants to dance at it,” he continued lightly.

“ _Wedding?!_ ” Leopold sputtered in disbelief. “That spoiled little brat—“

Emil smiled as he broke off, perhaps really considering the possibility for the first time. For a moment there was companionable silence, then Emil asked, “Oh, I was wondering how you knew about that passageway from the drawing room to the hospital wing. I’d never seen it before.”

Leopold became more serious. “I found it for the late King several years ago,” he replied quietly. Emil looked confused. The older man let out a rueful sigh and continued, “He used it to visit Liesbeth… towards the end.”

“I didn’t realize—he ever saw her again,” Emil admitted, treading carefully.

“She asked for him,” Leopold said simply. “She knew she was dying. I couldn’t deny her.”

Emil smiled again. “Well, I’m glad they’re together now,” he decided. He stood and Leopold did as well. “We’re both very grateful for all of your help.”

“Leopold is a terrible name for a child, especially a Prince,” he said gruffly.

“You’re welcome,” Emil told him. “You’ll be his favorite uncle.”

“I’m his _only_ uncle,” Leopold pointed out.

“Come see us soon,” Emil said, heading for the door.

“I will,” his older brother promised.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place earlier. Emil gets some bad news about a relative.

Leopold didn’t bother knocking on the bedroom door, but he did open it carefully, peering into the blue-and-gold room through as small a crack as he could. When he saw no movement, however, he slipped inside and approached the bed with his usual inaudible steps. The two sleeping figures were, fortunately, arrayed in positions that left them fully covered by the pale blue sheets, though the tangle of bare limbs—Emil’s a golden tan, Halla’s a smooth milk chocolate—left little doubt about the night’s activities.

Leopold gently laid a hand on his king’s shoulder. “Your Majesty,” he began, barely above a whisper. The younger man made an uninterested noise and turned more on his side. Leopold shook him a bit more firmly. “Emil.”

Finally the King forced his eyes open and turned his head, trying to clear his mind of cobwebs when he saw his media director standing there. Usually he was awakened by phone, if he had to be awakened by someone at all—unless something serious had happened. The last time Leopold had personally gotten him out of bed, it was to say that their father had died.

“Leo?” he began sleepily.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” Leopold told him, stepping back so Emil could sit up and orient himself. “The Cabinet is assembling.”

Emil nodded, still not fully awake. For a moment there was silence as he slid out of bed, careful not to disturb his sleeping partner, and yanked on the trousers he’d discarded last night. “What’s going on?” he finally asked, slightly more alert as he pulled on the shirt Leopold held out for him.

“The Cabinet’s assembling,” the media director repeated quietly, while his king tried to make himself look more presentable.

“Why?”

“There’s been a coup,” Leopold told him soberly, “in Hartwig.”

Emil stuck his head back out of the bathroom, alarm in his brown eyes. “What about Bastien? Is he alright?”

Leopold didn’t answer, but instead turned to the King’s dove, who was looking rather embarrassed to wake up naked with the media director in the room. “I’m so sorry for the intrusion, Halla,” he assured her, “but His Majesty has urgent state business to attend to. You had better go back to your rooms for now, hmm?”

The girl nodded uncertainly. Emil grabbed Leopold’s arm and dragged him over by the closet. “Leopold, _what about my cousin_?” he hissed.

“They don’t know,” the older man murmured, trying to keep an eye on Halla’s whereabouts while politely not staring at her underdressed figure.

“ _What?!_ ”

Leopold sighed. He knew it was the first thing his king would ask, so he hoped the Cabinet would have more news. “They can’t find him.”

“They can’t find their own emperor?” Emil asked angrily, stomping his boots on. He didn’t even notice Halla slide out the door, wrapped in one of his robes.

“Things are very confused there right now,” Leopold pointed out. “Your international advisers will know more.”

“They bloody well better,” Emil snapped, heading for the door.


End file.
